


Until You're Mine

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), steter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dogs, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Boys Kissing, Breeding, Dogs, Dreams, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Good Peter, Inspired by Dreams, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mostly Peter Hale POV, Mutual Pining, Non-Canon Relationship, Peter Hale is a Softie, Pining, Rutting, Sex Dream, Sex Standing Up, Smut, Wall Sex, Winter, erotic dream, topping from behind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 13:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17705087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: "There is no distance or time spent apart, Peter fears, that would ever make him forget Stiles."Stiles and Peter meet while walking their pups.Now it's been a while, and the pining is getting worse. One night Stiles has an erotic dream about Peter and decides to tell him about it.





	Until You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't get enough of these two. Enjoy!

It’s colder than it looks. The rising sun is only burning away the morning mist but there’s still grey frost on the grass. A nip to the air makes the tips of their noses redden.   
  
“Soooo… “  
The word floats off of Peter’s tongue, trailing all hollow. Like the letter looks and sounds.   
_Ohohoh_.   
  
Is today going to be the day? Peter wonders. Is he finally going to swallow his fucking cowardice and just  _do it_?  
  
“Anything new?” Peter asks in a raspy voice.   
Anxious. Needy.   
_Jesus Peter you are so gone.  
  
_He glances left.   
Away.   
Back.  
Once more.   
He’s having trouble ungluing his gaze from the profile of Stiles’ plump lips. The look of love softening his expression is quickly veiled lest he be discovered.  
  
_I want him so much. So much._  
 Shaking off these feelings would be easier if they didn’t see each other so often. Not that Peter wants them to wither. Not at all.  
There is no distance or time spent apart, Peter fears, that would ever make him forget Stiles.  
  
Roxy tugs on the leash, breaking his trance. It’s a very familiar feeling. The tugging.   
Stiles has been tugging on his soul just as desperately.   
The pull. The hunger. They are his bedfellows. They keep him up at night in wide-eyed longing.   
  
Racing ahead of them, the dogs frolick happily. As far as their leashes will allow.  
A bit like how Peter feels. He may have come to this tether's end. He's either going to choke, or he'll have to break free.   
Only Stiles can decide that for him. If he ever gets up the daring to reveal himself.   
  
-  
  
They follow slowly behind their pets, traveling a new path.  
Icy patches glimmer under the morning light.  
Stiles treads carefully. He nearly slips when the path curves, latching onto Peter' shoulder with a giggle.   
"Oops, careful!" Peter holds him by the elbows.   
"Shit, sorry... "  
_For what???_   Peter's pulse is racing.   
  
Noodles patters back as Stiles straightens himself, concern for his master further wrinkling his tiny face. Stiles kneels down and scratches him behind the ears.  
"Everything's okay, buddy. Daddy just slipped. Go back and play."  
Satisfied, he scampers off.   
Peter's ready to melt like the winter snow.   
  
They resume walking and Stiles returns to Peter's left. He's always on his left.  
Even when they turn back at the end of trails, their places reversed, Stiles will eventually lead his dog back over.   
  
Does he think this is his “good” side? He wonders.  
Any side of Stiles is his good side, Peter decides. Especially his backside.  
_Now you’re a comedian, Peter. You ARE gone!  
_  
The men keep an even pace. Peter pulls up the collar on his tailored wool coat as a breeze lifts. The sliver of skin not covered by his scarf immediately prickles against the low temperature.   
Stiles wrings his gloved hands around the leash, tightening his grip. The low buzz in his mind is distracting.  
   
“Not much is new.” Stiles finally answers. "To answer your question from before."  
It’s more of an exhale than a reply, born from deep within.  
Peter wonders why Stiles is quiet this morning. Why there’s something riding the line between mischief and contemplation flitting across his face.   
  
“Well, no news is good news, right?”  
Stiles presses his lips together so tightly they’re nearly white. “Mhhm.”   
  
Is this a feeble attempt at trying to keep his words prisoner behind those perfect white teeth?  
“Slow down, Stiles. You’re talking my ear off this morning.”   
Stiles smiles, eyes falling suddenly. A flush surges up to his face and down to his groin. It radiates from his very core. 

Yes. Something is up. Normally a double shot of espresso isn’t enough to help Peter keep up with the chatter, but today Stiles is suspiciously reserved.   
  
From across the field, someone calls Stiles’ name. He waves back in greeting. It’s another dog owner. A neighbor.  
Peter has seen them speak. He’s a handsome lawyer named Max and Peter’s not jealous of him. Not at all.  A small steel ball also isn’t forming in the pit of his belly.   
  
Who’s he kidding? No wonder Max wants him. Stiles is a catch. He’s intelligent, funny, and extremely handsome.   
It’s hard to ignore just how perfect he is. Impossible not to linger on the crimson jacket that hugs his body as if it were painted on.   
He’s been working out, Peter notes. A strain at the biceps marks it  _and_ there’s definitely something interesting happening down in the jeans department.   
Of course, one has to care about these things to notice them.   
Peter is surely above these superficial observations? The scan of Stiles’ perfect ass says otherwise.   
_Stop staring.  
_  
Stiles pretends not to notice the attention though he’s thinking about what it all means. Were those heart palpitations he felt just now?  
The possibility that this handsome man might be attracted to him makes his breath shorten.   
  
Stiles is definitely interested in Peter, which is making this particular morning a little… difficult.  
  
“How was the date? I remember you mentioning it. Was that last night?”  _Jesus, I hope it didn’t go well_.  _That way I can ask you out._  
They’re passing by two benches, and Peter raises his hand to suggest they sit.   
He changes his mind shortly after, hand still hovering, when he senses Stiles is restless.   
Peter saves the gesture by running his fingers through his dark brown hair. 

Keeping his gaze directed forward, Stiles inhales sharply. “Noodles, come back over here!” He gives the leash more length.   
Stiles' nostrils flare. Peter’s aftershave is wafting over and fuck if it’s not giving him an erection.   
“It was awful,” Stiles replies.  
Relief relaxes the lines in Peter’s brow. “You’re overwhelming me with your enthusiasm, Stiles.” He chuckles, puffy frost clouds appearing in front of his nose.   
  
Stiles doesn’t find himself amused in equal measure. “Not only was the guy creepy AND a total bore, my freakin’ ex shows up at the same restaurant. I mean, really?! Of all places… ”   
The words materialize in a mist as he speaks, escaping Stiles’ dark pink lips in short bursts.   
There’s an edge to the tone. Sadness and … something else.   
Tension?   
  
“Wow, that’s terrible. I’m sorry,” Peter interjects.  _Not really but you don’t need to know that._    
Eyes narrowed, he places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. It’s strong under his touch. Ungiving.   
  
“I had a terrible date last week, too. So unbearable that I called it before we even got our entrée. It’s slim pickings out there, isn’t it?”  
Stiles bites into his plump lower lip, the cold air he just sucked in stuck in his throat.  _I’m only really interested in the option right here in front of me, but sure._    
“Uh-huh.”   
An eyebrow isn’t meant to arch that quickly. Peter doesn’t have the willpower to catalog his expressions.  
“Are you okay?” Peter enquires, head tilted in charming concern. “You seem off.”   
  
Cinnamon eyes blink under a forest of dark lashes, dragging their warm gaze over Peter’s face.  
_Jesus he’s beautiful._ It almost makes Stiles choke up. _  
_  
Peter wants to forget himself there so badly, in those eyes. Lie under their canopy and feed off their shade.  
He’s never felt more lost.  
He’s never felt more found.  
  
“Yes and no. I’m sad.” Stiles exhales as if it hurts. “And I’m horny.”   
“I’m sorry, what?!” Peter gasps. 

Chats about sex are common between them, but it’s never been  _this thick with truth.  
_Stiles wears his smirk well.  _  
  
_-

 _  
_ Peter and Stiles have been coming to the forest preserve together for a couple of weeks now. They met by accident but now it’s definitely an unspoken appointment.   
Roxy, Peter’s caramel Frenchie, absolutely adores Stiles’ pug. In fact, Noodles is equally smitten, chasing Roxy around like it’s the happiest activity of his day.  
When possible, the men also meet for the pups’ evening walks. This has allowed them to spend more or less a couple hours together each day.   
Which is nice.   
Very, very nice. Mainly because Peter is crazy about Stiles and hopes the beautiful architect reciprocates.  
He may come off cocky, but Peter’s actually insecure.

It hasn’t been easy. Peter never meant to be “that guy,” the one who falls for men who are ten years his junior. Honestly, he really gets along with people who are open-minded and age has never really mattered. But lately, be it he attracts guys with “Daddy” kinks or that his job as a club owner keeps him around a younger crowd, it’s been easier to date in that pool.   
And Stiles is neck deep in it. That pool.  
He’s 33 and Peter’s 43. Exactly a decade separates them.   
  
 -

“I said  _I’m horny_.” Vivid in his mind is his new friend Peter Hale.   
Naked.   
Naked and… the flash from last night’s erotic dream makes Stiles blush. Avoid eye contact.  
It’s not the first one he’s had about Peter but it’s certainly the steamiest. They’re in Stiles’ apartment, Peter pressed into him, holding him up against a wall as he rams his -  
  
The tint of rose in his cheeks stings and it’s not just from the chill. This is unusually bold for him, but if something doesn't happen soon, Stiles fears it never will.   
  
“That’s what I thought I heard… ” Peter continues, a warmth spreading across his chest. He stops and commands Stiles’ focus.   
A wild idea flowers in Stiles’ naughty mind. Turning on his heel, he faces Peter. He can feel his pulse thundering in his ears.  
“The reason I’m horny is… I had a sex dream about you.”   
  
_Wait, WHAT?!_  
Stiles is rewarded with a long, slow grin. Peter’s heart just turned over (and something stirred in his pants).   
The dogs bark playfully a few steps away but neither owner is paying attention.   
  
Okay. Peter will  _happily_  play along.   
“Did you now?!” A light of desire illuminates Peter’s mellow blue eyes. He swears to memorize every part of Stiles with them.   
  
“Uh-huh.” Stiles slow nods. He advances one step. “And it was hot _. Super hot_.”   
  
Stiles’ smug mouth is so kissable Peter doesn’t know if he can keep himself from doing it.   
“Wanna tell me what it was about?”  
  
An invitation smolders in the depths of Stiles’ redwood eyes. He clucks his tongue, angling in his face to within an inch of Peter’s.   
“How about instead of telling you… _I show you_?”  
  
-

Peter’s hand moves lightly down the inside of the boy’s quivering thigh. The skin there is creamy and smooth. His palm over the top of Peter’s hand, Stiles scratches himself with Peter’s nails. The light pink lines leading to his lower belly map all his most sensitive points.  
Peter’s using his wide, muscled body to pin Stiles to the wall. Just like in the dream.   
Just like in Stiles’ specific instructions.   
  
“Now slide it between my … UGH… “ another brush on his prostate has Stiles so weak he buckles.  
“Yes Peter… fuck… like that… _slow_ … “  
  
In and out, the ribbed opening swallows the two fingers that have been moving inside Stiles’ heat.  
Expanding the muscle and massaging his gland, Peter finger fucks him into submission.  
“Oh sweet god…”  
Stiles’ sex is SO stiff, so needy for friction he's reduced to rutting against the wall with frenzied jerks.  
  
“That’s it, Stiles. That’s it… I’ve got you.“  
  
There are teeth, and nails, and more heat.  
Clenching and unclenching on Stiles’ shaft, Peter wiggles nearer until they're chest to back.   
  
A gentle nudge lifts Stiles’ rear closer to Peter’s cock, which nestles between his ass cheeks.  
  
Stiles settles back with a sigh, and Peter rolls his hips. The hardness gliding up and down between the soft mounds of flesh leaves Peter wobbly.  
The concave hollow of Stiles' spine tingles at every touch.  
  
“Please… please… “  
Stiles doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. He’s just drunk. On Peter.  
  
Every upward movement rubs Peter’s member so exquisitely it sends electricity through his extremities.   
“Oh Stiles,” he groans, cheek against the top of his shoulder.  
Peter’s moist cock head leaves a circular wet spot on Stiles’ spine. It glistens against the sunshine cutting through the curtains when Peter bends backward to steady himself. 

“Oh god,” Stiles whimpers, the tip of his tongue slowly moistening his under-lip. “Stop teasing me…”  
  
Peter’s foreskin pulls back each time his balls hit the bottom of Stiles’ perfectly round buttocks.  
The pressure against his hole… the want… it’s making him leak so badly.   
  
“I just like to see you beg, Stiles… “ Peter returns below, adds another finger, every caress on the tender spot of his wall making Stiles jump.  
“Do you want me, Stiles?” He pushes in to the knuckles.  
Stiles is seeing stars. “Yes Peter oh my god YES…”  
Desire coils inside him, radiating outward. “Peter… pull my hair… “  
  
Soft brown tufts sprout from between Peter’s fingers as he yanks Stiles’ head back with his free hand. His tongue wanders up the cord of Stiles’ neck, nibbling on his earlobe, making him shudder against his bare chest.   
“Say it,” he growls.  
“Take me, Peter,” Stiles beseeches. “ _Please_  take me.”  
  
Peter nods, nuzzling his nose into the back of Stiles’ neck. His hair smells like citrus.  
Lemons. No... it's an orange grove on a summer day. Stiles’ eyes are the tree trunks and his skin is orange peels and Jesus Christ  
Peter can’t resist any longer.  
  
“Spread for me,” Peter whispers, his breath warm and sweet. Just the tip of his tongue teases the corner of Stiles' gaping mouth.   
  
“Oh fuck… “ Stiles grunts, “fuck… ”   
His feet slide apart and he lets his head dip low between his arms.  
  
“Look at me,” Peter commands.  
A lick of slick lips and a bat of lashes.  
Peter swoops down to capture Stiles’ mouth. Seizing and searching, he forces him open further with a demanding flick of the tongue.  
Stiles sucks on it, feasts on his taste, wishing his mouth were wider.   
  
“You’re all mine… “ he breathes.  
“Yes,” Stiles hiccups. “All… yours… “  
  
Peter grips Stiles’ waist with calloused palms as he enters him, one deep and desperate thrust enough to reach the hilt.  
“Oh fuck… “ they both whine loudly.  
When he buries himself completely inside, it's like diving to the bottom of the ocean. A hum consumes his consciousness, his vision blurs. The air is sucked from his lungs.  
He snakes his arm around Stiles, holding him like he’s trying to save them both from drowning.   
  
“Oh fuck Peter, fuck… “ Oh Jesus if this isn’t heaven, Stiles thinks. The ache… the emptiness of his loins now filled with delicious hot thickness.  
  
Stiles bounces back on every plunge as if all of Peter’s huge cock still isn’t enough to balm his burning need.   
  
Peter navigates through darkness, eyes closed as he increases his tempo, chasing something still out of view.   
“Is this what I did to you in the dream?” Peter whispers between grunts. “Fuck you so deep and hard against the wall, make you scream my name so much you forget yours?”   
  
Stiles nods, panting. “Yes… yes… oh god YES PETER… “  
  
There’s so much power behind his thrusts that a small picture falls off its rusty nail. The dogs bark in reaction to the noise from behind the living room doors.   
“More, baby. Give me more.”  
  
Each snap of Peter’s hips beckons a litany of stuttery “fucks.”  
Stiles arches his back and bares his throat, offering himself completely. The tension building from the base of his spine expands to his retracting balls.  
“Peter… I’m close. Harder. _Please._ ”

Peter obeys. Muscles strain, the veins on his neck popping. There are lights now in his darkness… orange lights like twinkle lights like fireworks like…  
  
Another picture crashes to the ground. The dogs howl.   
"Come for me, Stiles... Come for me... "  
  
Warmth spills _into_ Stiles as Peter’s hand milks warmth _out of_   Stiles. It drips onto the tile in front of his feet in slow plops.   
  
“Oh heavenly Father… “   
  
Relaxed into the wall, chest heaving, Peter waits to soften. He’s still enjoying being inside Stiles’ velvety recesses while he peppers his silky skin with kisses.  
  
“So was this how the dream ended?” His grin couldn't be wider.   
“Something to this effect, yes."   
Damp chocolate hair sticks to Stiles’ neck. His rosy face cools against the freezing wall.   
  
Peter skims his mouth along the sweep of Stiles' mole-speckled cheeks. He tries to wrench his gaze away but he can't. He says it before he can reason.   
"I'm in love with you Stiles."  
  
Turtle brown eyes blink back at him. The v of his upper lip trembles. "I know, Peter. I'm in love with you, too."  
  
There's a moment of recognition.  
Beautiful discovery.  
Stiles wraps his hands around Peter's neck and pulls him in for a kiss. Whisper-light like a promise.   
  
"Now _that's_ how the dream ends."   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This ship is breaking my heart into tiny pieces. Why do I love them so?!
> 
> It's my birthday tomorrow and today is the anniversary of when I began posting on Ao3 one year ago. So many things to celebrate! 
> 
> Having said that... I want to say a huge thank you to you, kind readers. Thank you for welcoming me to this pairing with such open arms. The transition over from Sterek was gradual but now I've decided to stop writing Sterek altogether and this seems to be an amazing fit.  
> Thank you for putting faith in me enough to read me.  
> Much gratitude for taking the time to kudo and comment. Both mean the world to me and help keep me moving forward.  
> I love interacting with you in comments and I'm appreciative of EVERY SINGLE ONE. So please continue to do so if the fancy strikes you! 
> 
> You're all wonderful. I hope I keep producing stories that you'll like because I love entertaining you and gifting you ten minutes of distraction from what is perhaps a tedious day. Mwah! - Michael 
> 
> Title from the Demi Lovato song.


End file.
